Both Ends of the Health Food Spectrum

Originally, this post was going to be about my adoration of the new 7-11 a block away from my apartment complex.  I fell in love upon visiting after a gym trip with a friend... 

It was everything I wanted in a 24-hour convenience store: spacious, brand new/clean aisles, a variety of beverages and snacks (including my hangover cures), basic supplies*, mystery vitamin packages - I was enamored.  But then I realized this doesn't translate well on virtual paper.

So instead I'll talk about my first juicing experience**!  Juicing is where instead of eating fruits and vegetables, they gather the juices from said food and discard all juice-less portions via obliteration machines***.  It's wonderful if you want to make yourself kids eat veggies and fruits they don't like, or if you really like peeling, cutting, and otherwise separating and sectioning off different foods at the possible expense of your phalanges****.

So I gathered all of the fruit in my fridge, went to my friend's who had said juicer, and began the process.

First I had to prep the fruit.  I had made the foolish assumption this meant cutting it into reasonable pieces.  But no, there was peeling and de-seeding and de-the-hard-thing-in-the-center-of-some-fruits-ing.

I think I burned more calories than I consumed...

After about 30 minutes of food prep and only 2 minor lacerations, I was ready for the fun part - obliterating said fruit.

Sweet Obliteration

Due to the mix of grapefruit, kiwi, apple, peaches, and plums I had, it turned out like this:

But tasted like this:

I will say while it was not the best thing I ever tried, it was by far not the worst.  If the urge ever strikes me again to get my vitamins in liquid form, I'll be sure to look up a recipe.

On a More Serious Note, Or, How to Lose a Friend

Although there are a few fun things I need to catch my posts up on, I wanted to share something a bit more serious today.

Last Tuesday, a friend of mine from college, Russell Jones passed away.  While I was not the closest to him, we shared a lot of close friends, four of whom I got the message from last Wednesday.  I spent a large part of the morning and afternoon still in shock, with brief periods of sadness as well as happiness as I looked over old photos and videos of him.  As much as social media can make us feel alone, the past week it's been a blessing, a way for his friends and family to share their good memories of Russell and well wishes for his family.  It has really helped me in feeling like 3,000 miles aren't so far.

But they are pretty far this week, when so many will be gathering to remember him.  A large part of me wishes I could be there, but knows when I go home in a few weeks I will pay my respects.  In the mean time, I can pay my respects in other ways.

I accept that all the things I'm about to say may be cliche, but they're also true.  I've seen Russell in any emotion, but most of the time, it was happy.  He was a person that couldn't keep that to himself - it spread to those around him, whether they joined in willingly or got dragged along for the ride.  His laugh made you smile, if not laugh yourself, and he was unashamed to do anything to get that out of you.  I truly believe the best moments in his life were those he shared making others happy or being happy with others.  He found his match in ridiculousness with one of our mutual friends, and I remember all the shennanigans they got into - I swear they were trying to top one another, and it made for a great show.

Russell was always up for adventures, or anything new.  He was one of the most active people I've met, following his feet into a novel experience over anything ordinary.  While he could sit and veg out like any college student, it never lasted a whole day - he would have to get up and release some energy or learn something.  He could be competetive when he wanted to be, but giving and loyal to those he trusted.  He could be insecure, but also seemed to be okay with that, taking things by the moment and savoring it.  Russell lived in the present, as his array of activities, hair-styles, and wardrobe were a testament to that. Ultimately, Russell enjoyed life, and particularly enjoyed it with others.

I'm not sure what I believe beyond the life that we live, but I do believe no one leaves without making the impact they were supposed to, or getting what really matters in life "right".  Russell won't get to do many things, but he also did a lot of things many people don't - he took many risks, had a variety of experiences, and made many people happy, even if momentarily.  For me, it doesn't matter how long Russell's life was because he lived most of it as full as he possibly could, and he challenged others to do that too.

The best way I can remember him is by doing the same.  When I reflect on the past year, my "fullest" moments come in so clearly - racing dolphins in a small boat with good friends, watching people dance as if they choreographed it to live bands, driving as fast as I dared while a friend lifted her arms and head out of my sunroof, seeing laughing faces in the light of a bonfire, and even in class, when a discussion was so inthralling I could tell everyone was on the edge of their seats.  The feelings I have in such moments are similar to many I shared with Russell - dressing and attending a themed party, or going drifting in the best snow of the winter in a Wal-mart parking lot.  The moments aren't always glamorous or everyone's idea of adventure, but they're the ones that make us feel connected to one another and maybe something bigger, the ones in which we are absolutely sure we are not alone.

Will that be a bit harder to remember in the wake of this? Maybe, and probably for some.  I can't say what he would or would not want now, but from here on out who Russell is is how we choose to remember him.  I want to remember his best self, and do my best to someday find mine.

Thanks for the laughs and adventures, Cupcake.  I'll be seeing you.

Percy, the Prius, Or, I Get Even More West Coast for a Bit

Better late than never?

So on Father's Day, which I spent with my maternal Uncle and cousins, I went to the grocery store.  As I was leaving said grocery store, I though it'd be fun to get in a fender bender.  When we connected I was more terrified than any other accident I had been in, although I was traveling exponentially slower.

After walking the 30-something year-old driver through the process (he literally ripped off and gave me his entire insurance card), I called my insurance company where the conversation went something like this.

InsuranceLady:  Can you describe the situation for me?

Me: Yes.  Essentially we were both parked in opposite spots in the same lane.  We must have backed out at the same time, because I saw no moving vehicles when I checked before backing out.  We met somewhere in the middle of the lane, and we had turned our cars in opposite directions because we connected at each other's driver's tailights.

IL:...So, you both rear-ended each other?

Me: Basically, yes.

IL: (audible sigh) Well, there's a first time for everything.

Her attitude was most helpful.

So while my dear car, Symon, went into the shop for ten days and sadly got his well-chosen bumper stickers replaced with a new bumper, I got to drive THIS:

Nothing says California* like a Prius - for those both economically and environmentally conscious, while perpertually in traffic.

Okay it was between this and a Black Challenger.  But since the only thing I had to pay for was the gas and I'm not trying to compensate for anything, the Prius appeared the winning choice.

Now I love my car - it's like a hybrid of the 90's and 00's.  Although a 2001, it has a cassette player, but it also has leather seats, a single CD player, and sunroof.  I like that it takes just over 5 minutes for the air to start being the temperature you desire and the emergency brake is in between the seats, like the gear shift.  I've been in more archaic cars, so I never thought it was far behind present models.  Until I got in this.

After figuring out the ignition was a button (as is the parking) and locating the parking brake by my left foot, the Jetsons and I proceeded to lift off and fly into the sky.

I tried to rid my head of the lyrics to "Black and Yellow" as I pressed to start, and spent the next 3 hours running errands, playing music from my phone wirelessly, accepting phone calls, checking my moment-to-moment MPG, and trying to figure out what the hell the "B" stood for on the gear shift (I decided on Badass).

But then I thought of Symon.  His leather seats, all the adventures we'd been on, the new hoods and bumpers he'd had,  his ability to survive minor flooding and the epic slurpee spill of 07/11/09, the trip across country that got me out to California in the first place...

How could I so easily forget my first car?  Faced with this shiny, efficient future, did the past mean nothing?

Eventually I got sick of all the music on my phone and was disenchanted to find in the manual that "B" only stood for engine Braking...something about going down hills, I don't know.  I was happy to see Symon again, although a slightly darker shade of blue and sticker free.

A week ago Symon turned the big 100,000.  My baby is a ripe middle-aged machine now, and I couldn' t be more proud.  I hope he sees 200,000, but even if he doesn't, I'll keep him til he goes to whatever heaven Disney-Pixar invents for cars.  I hope it has rides like the new park.

I have secretly always wondered if I could get to 150mph...but I'd just figure I'd wait until I get plutonium and my flux capacitor and a lightning storm strikes.  Sadly in CA, the latter is unlikely to happen any time soon.

And Amazon is all out of plutonium. Consistently.

And Dim Sum

A couple weekends ago, I joined two of my friends on a Saturday restaurant adventure.  One of the friends, Mia, had been there before, and thank god she had.  In a part of LA that had more Chinese written on the sign than English, she helped us navigate a shopping plaza to the top of the floor.  There weren't other stores at the top - the top was the restaurant.

The seafood restaurant flowed in a typical Hong Kong style Dim Sum.  We were seated at a table, brought tea, and then waiters with carts of a variety of foods would pass by and offer us whatever we would like.  The food comes in individual and sometimes bite-size portions served in steamers or plates, about 3-4 people servings.

Some of our dishes!

There were so many foods to choose from!  Any meat you could think of: pork, chicken, beef, fish, shrimp, squid, and lobster.  And they came in so many forms: fried, cooked as is (spare ribs), on sticks, Gao (rice-wheat dumplings), Bau (fluffy wheat buns with various fillings), soups, and even Phoenix Claws (fried chicken feet...we passed on this one).  So many vegetables were included in these dishes and a nice almond paste and taro to some dishes.  For dessert we chose and almond one, sesame rolls, and the more american pigs in blankets (they were just too cute!).

As we ordered our food, the cart waiters would stamp a sheet on our table with different numbers or shapes (see below).  We tried to decipher the system, but with no luck.

"If we get BINGO, do we get a discount?"

After a very filling meal and waving bye to the soon-to-be-dinner sea animals in tanks along a wall, we stopped by to get Boba tea on the way home.

Are They Line Dancing to Space Jam?, Or, Happy Two Months Pregnant!

While my friends and I have enjoyed a few nights at a bar country line dancing, my roommate, Cort, was really into what's best described as Country Swing, or as the new place we found calls it: TRUE COUNTRY.

Courtesy of truecountrydance.com...I mean that's totally me. Okay, so no, I can't do that but MAYBE someday I will.

By some magic* we found this place that does country swing, which Cort used to do with her undergraduate friends.  A couple Wednesdays ago we decided to check it out and found a line wrapped around the building!  It was 18+ night, which accounted for the line as well as a wrist-band-only guys rule.  After weaving in and grabbing our first round of drinks, we headed to the edge of the main dance floor, just behind the smaller one.  There were plenty of people out there...but line dancing! WHAT?

We soon found out that there was a change up pattern - 3-4 songs would be played for line dances, and 3-4 songs would be played for two-stepping or swing dancing.  We watched for the first few, but later on a few of us tried to get in on the line dancing and Cort and I two-stepped.  A bit later she got asked to dance by a strapping, cowboy-hat-wearing, young gentleman.

After stepping outside for some air, we came back in to find people line dancing to Space Jam**.  Then to MmmBop.  Then to more strange line dancing songs that I probably blocked out.  Suddenly, the music paused as all ladies were asked to get on the floor who could do one particular line dance, and all the gentlemen celebrating birthdays or being newly single got a front row seat.

Afterwards it was the boys turn, which the announcer was sure to emphasize was a "clothes optional" dance.

As a pretty average girl, I dig both the tux and the occasional uniform look.  But there is nothing I have found that quite does it for me like a plaid shirt, correctly fitted jeans, and a hat (and maybe a belt buckle, but nothing tacky).  So the crowd looked pretty good before they all started ripping their shirts off...then some of them got better.  And some got worse (put it BACK on!).  Either way, all of a sudden there were a group of about 40 guys, most of them topless, line dancing for the girls who were celebrating birthdays, bachelorettes, being newly single, and 8 weeks pregnant.

Why she was out at a bar 8 weeks pregnant? Not sure.  But if you get a crowd of half naked men dancing for you, then I guess I can't judge her life choices too harshly.  I'll be sure to note this for my future husband/baby daddy****.

Cross-Fit Is Less Awesome, And, This is Water

So among the copious amount of movies and other nothing I've been doing of late, I decided to try to do Cross-Fit exercises with a good friend.

12-20 minutes. That's all, just push through it, you're done, right?

Wrong.  Well, technically, yes, but not so simply.  Cross-Fit can be hard.  And painful.  And hard.  And sometimes I feel like the warm-up is enough.  But then I do do the rest of it, sometimes pausing before the nausea can occur, sometimes snapping out of my dizzy-driven thoughts to realize I'm on the next exercise.

Yet as much as it is just not enjoyable, I'm going to keep doing it.

Because lately, my days have felt pretty meaningless.  I've had staring contests with many-a-screen, and occasionally with a good old fashioned book.  I'm not sure how it became a third of the way through June.  And the occasional bit of fitness I punch in does remind me that I am still an existing thing beyond what I choose to take in.

But I watched this today, and no matter who you are - graduate student, unemployed, employed but burnt out or just feeling "stuck" in whatever worry you cannot fully comprehend or name, I think you should watch it too.

This Is Water

I hope it helps.  I think I'll try.

June Jubilation, Or, My New Addiction to Competitive Television

This past March I participated in my first ever March Madness bracket.  With some advice from my basketball playing cousin, I made my bracket and ended up winning*!

While I've learned that my favorite phrase to yell at televised sporting events is "get your s**t together", I've also learned that I love the systematic order and yet luck that comes with picking your winners - where math and destiny collide.

So I decided to apply this to the most heart-wrenching, riveting, televised competition of all.  The Bachelorette.

Is this novel? Not in the least.  Brackets have been around for at least the past couple seasons, which is pretty much when I started watching anyway.  By the second season I viewed I'd invented a drinking game, but it just hasn't been enough.  So it was time to up the ante.

My summer productivity in the print.

First I thought at least my sisters would get involved.  But after my first viewing party (which included two loud and opinionated men**) there will now be around 10 females participating in the bracket.  I have yet to come up with prizes, although making our own Shiva***, a couple bottles of wine, and bragging rights sound about right.

Let the games begin!
______________________________________________________________________

Things I'm looking for in a new apartment/house:

1.)  Allows dogs that are actually dogs (no 35lbs restriction).

2.)  Not beneath a master bedroom.  Because there's no nice way to offer your neighbors a can of WD-40.

3.)  Relatively cheap.

Everything else, I welcome the DIY.

Katy Perry I Let You Down, Or, How My Virgin Trip to Vegas Was Everything and Nothing I Expected

Back in the middle of February, I took my first ever trip to Vegas.  Although I probably could've made the trip with a few friends, I never set out for Atlantic City on the East Coast.  Even if I had, I'm not sure how it would've compared to the one and only Vegas.

After a four hour drive and just after the sun had set, we entered Vegas on a Friday evening.  It was simultaneously smaller and larger than I had imagined.  All the hotels and main attractions mentioned in any good film, book, or debauchery story seemed to fit so snuggly together, huddled around the main strip like they're huddling for warmth out in the Nevada desert; at the same time, walking any distance in heels seemed absolutely absurd, and yet I knew many girls did this every night.

Caesar's Palace

The shakey Bellagio

The Patriotic Venetian...confusing.

Each building one-uped the one before it as we drove in.  I love Ocean's Eleven, and it was strange to see Bellagio in person - again, somehow being both smaller and yet larger in real life than on the screen.

After a very confusing parking lot, slight panic over possibly not having the rooms we booked, and a slow pour in of all of our party members, we settled in.  The room had a kitchen, multiple televisions, including a projector that projected onto the blind that covered the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window in the main room.  One room had a jacuzzi bath, which was given to the birthday girl, the boys (whom I only vaguely knew one) got the main room, and the rest of us 7 girls piled into the other room later that night...but we'll get to that later.

We had gotten in later than expected, so after lighter dinners we began throwing back drinks, mostly tequila.  While we all got ready, we noticed an odd smell and it didn't take long to figure out the guys had brought weed...which is just what one thinks would be perfect for a non-smoking suite with no ventilation whatsoever. This lead to an awkward confrontation where the guys insisted it was fine, nothing would happen, and if it did they would pay.  They soon left to hit the tables, we finished dressing/pre-gaming/taking random pictures, and then proceeded to head out.

The first challenge: the elevator.  Most people, elevators take about 3 minutes.  But you're usually not trying to herd 9 very drunk cats into an elevator, intoxicated yourself.  And keep them from pressing all the buttons.  Or getting off on the wrong floor.  After a few downs, then ups, then downs again, we finally made it from the 2-something floor to the bottom.

We then ever so casuallly crossed the main floor, took an escalator down to the entrance to board a party bus.  Traveling sideways with lots of visual and auditory stimulation is trippy enough, but even more so thanks to alcohol.  The ride, mostly full of friends of friends of friends, took longer than I expected, and I wasn't horribly surprised to catch one of my friends very quietly losing her stomach into a borrowed stranger's cup.

My view down the partybus.

At the hotel, half of us parted to the bathroom while the rest of us tried to navigate the casino tables to the club within the new hotel.  We texted the others who's name to give to get in, but a few of them never made it, having gotten "X"ed out for getting sick into an ice bucket (I still think they should've been more grateful it wasn't the floor).  Inside we enoyed the perks of a table, including drinks, seats when not on the dance floor, and the occasional dance on higher ground.  Most of us got in between 2-3am and snuggled into spots wherever there was room.

The next morning most of us were not feeling our best, but after a round of showers and food we took to the streets to explore Vegas during the day.

Ah, freshish air!

The "Eiffel Tower" - got a pretty awesome souvenir and drink here

Indoor rainstorm in the Mile Mall

After some dinner, we decided to meet up with others to play!  We found our friends at a roulette table, giving a group of guys numbers to play on.  We shortly switched to roulette machines ourselves, some of us having decent luck!

My first cashout voucher and a machine!...okay so I lost $1.75, but I'll find a way to make ends meet.

Sooner than I would've liked, we returned to our rooms to get ready for our second night.  During which, the boys finally did get in trouble (which was a good thing as their room reaked at this point) and after a tense half hour where we weren't sure what was going to happen, they packed up their stuff and left.  With drama gone, we finished getting ready and got into a great large group vehicle, where our driver happily answered our Vegas and more psychology-related questions (all of our group are studying psychology).  He was such a good sport and seemed to enjoy us too, that a few of our group got his number to call him next time we were in Vegas.

I really wish this second night could've gone better for myself, as by the time we got all the way into the club both of my heels were bleeding from my shoes.  I ended up spending the night in a booth with guys I didn't know, watching Hulu off my phone when not listening to the great DJ or watching the parade of too-drunk-to-function be dragged out.  I was happy that everyone else got to dance and have a good time however, and in a couple hours a few people wanted to go back and I went with them.

While the three of us were standing in the taxi line, we made friends with this guy who was trying to get his mostly asleep buddy home.  He was actually from California, not far from where we go to school and was pretty cute.  We ended up sharing a cab, one of my roommates and I in the frontseat and the guy, his passed out friend, and our other friend in the back.  I was hoping he might try to swap information when we got out at our hotel, but too soon did the taxi take them away.  It wasn't until our walk in that my friend who had been in the backseat had asked about either my roommate or I, but since she couldn't hear which one of us he meant, she had just told him "she has a boyfriend" - true for my roommate but not for me!  Although both friends tried to tell me I'm better off with someone who directly asks for my number (okay, true), it was still a bit sad to know how close I just may have been.

The next day we would have to rise early, pack, and leave to make it back in time for a study group.  Although I could've spent a little more time gambling and less time in horrible shoes I brought on myself, Vegas still turned out to be everything and nothing like I thought.

The strip early at night.

Loss of a Trusty and Loyal Towel, Or, My First Bonfire on the Beach

So after, oh, 9 months living here I FINALLY made it to the beach with some of my friends!

Beach bummin it

Dan and I arrived around 2, but one of my roommates, the birthday girl, and another friend got there at 9 in the morning to reserve a spot.

The girls had already made a sandcastle, so we mostly chatted, waded and swam, and napped as Dan played guitar.  We also made some beach beverages and tried the supposedly "phenomenal cheese strips", according to the morning lady supervising parking, but they only turned out to be rectangle tortilla chips with unmelted shredded cheddar on top and enchilada sauce on the side.  I read a bit, but the afternoon seemed to pass by simultaneously quick and slow.

Others at the beach were having full on barbeques, playing baseball and football, or having Cinderella battles with kites:

Yes, two full grown men had a PRINCESS BATTLE (one of them yelled) 

After a few card games, others slowly started to arrive.  It took a little bit to get the fire going, as we initially forgot starter and the wind was sort of strong.  I took a walk on the beach to grab shots of the sunset and talk with a newer friend.  Unfortunately, while I was gone no one saw an ember land on my favorite 8 year old towel, burning a hole in its previously flawless composition (I was slightly distraught, but no one seemed to understand my plight. Rude.).

Seeing the sunset over the ocean still seems like such a vacation possibility - I'm more used to trying (and failing) to wake up early to see the sun rise over it.  When I first moved out here, I wanted to start the road trip with a sunrise over the ocean, and end it at Santa Monica Pier with the sunset.  Neither happened.  It was horribly cloudy both mornings we had the option to leave and we were so sick of driving by the time we got into Cali and we had to drive south 2hrs to my Uncle's, it just didn't seem we could bring ourselves to take another hour's detour.  

Both on the east coast and the west coast, my homes are between an hour or two away from the shores, but I wanted to see the very ends anyway.  I guess I thought I couldn't really say it was across the country until I saw the very ends of both, where the land met the ocean.  The end of something can only be defined as what it no longer is, and sometimes what replaces it. 

After the sun went down, we roasted marshmallows and others joined us.  We told stories and jokes, played with cameras and talked about what we loved about the birthday girl.  Maybe it's just nostalgia, but I love the way people look in firelight.  It reminds me of my family reunions as a kid and older, of sharing who we have been and who we are without any fallacies.  I know that's a golden perception, but one I'm willing to buy into.

Unfortunately the beach closed at 10pm, so sooner than I would've liked we had to pack up and go home.  I hope to make that trip more often this summer, starting out earlier hopefully.

I'm Not Supposed to Be Here

While there have been many wonderful moments I have experienced since I've moved here, I've really been afraid to write about the negative feelings.  Uncertainty, insecurity, loneliness, homesick, and the worst one, that I don't belong here.

A few of these relate to outside academic areas - specifically feelings of not having established as close of friendships as I have had at home, while also feeling that the friendships I have at home are slowly slipping away from me - most of them have dealt with feelings of inadequacy in my program.  I went from being so many things at my previous university - a smart, social leader who was happy in her small slice of the university that she got to impact - to being overwhelmed by all the things I should be here.  What's worse is that I feel as if my success at home has all my old loved ones expecting me to shine here, and I'm not as sure of that happening as I was a year ago.

While I know that feelings of burn-out aren't something to be ashamed of, especially when so many of my classmates are older and have had time off from school to have real work experience, the feelings of not cutting it in my classes and not having that work experience lead to an overwhelming sense of "not good enough".  And on top of that, I haven't felt I've had time to really figure out what I want to do with my life or even focus my research on, leaving the future wide open.  While that should be exhilarating, it's terrifying.  I'm flooded with feelings of "I'm not good enough", "I'm not ready" with being unsure if I ever will be, and ultimately that "I'm not supposed to be here".

It wasn't until I saw this video, that the words really fell into place for me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ks-_Mh1QhMc.   It's a TedTalk by Amy Cuddy who originally did social research, particularly on how body language effects self-feelings and beliefs.  The specific part that I will be referring to is the last five minutes (from about min 16 on) where she shares her own experience of how faking it til you make it (behaving in ways in order to feel more powerful and competent) made her feel like a fraud, and that who she "really was" wasn't supposed to be here.  It took one stubborn mentor figure to force her to keep doing it, and much further down the road she realized she didn't fake it til she made it, but faked it til she became it.

I know, deep down in my brain I know, that I do have that support - that I have mentors and friends here that do believe in me, even when I can't believe or see these things in myself.  And I know I can fake it until I become it, that I can find what I'm really passionate about, and that I won't feel ashamed or incompetent in going after what I want.  

And that's what I'm focusing on this summer.

Bravo, Old Sport! Or, How All Other Movie Going Experiences Have BeenRuined for Me

Two nights ago, I was staying at my Uncle's place in order to better focus on finals, when all of a sudden we were whisked off by the wind to a movie (damn those cinematic gusts)!

The movie was The Great Gatsby, and the theater was called Cinepolis. I'm not sure if these exist outside of California, but they put even the nicer theaters I've gone to to shame. The tickets are twice as expensive, but you get a leather recline-by-button chair as well as a waiter to bring food and drinks.

And I mean food and drinks.

My Sapphire Cherry, which fit oh so perfectly with Gatsby.

I only had the one drink, but ate a flatbread personal pizza and shared sushi  with my uncle.  They also had full meals like steak, as well as cinnamon flavor and zebra popcorn (white and milk chocolate)...maybe next time.

The movie was fantastic on its own (I will gladly go see it again) but the experience was definitely worth the price! Now if they could only build one closer to me...

Introduction to Dance, Or, How I Hope to Spend Part of My Summer

When I was a kid, dancing was something I would do for fun or as part of an acting/improv program.  While I enjoyed it as much as I did singing or acting, I never considered myself a dancer by any means.  Later in undergrad I took a couple courses in Jazz and Modern to discover how much I really loved it, how it made me forget any normal self-consciousness I had, how I could find myself out of breath, dripping in sweat, and happy (unlike most sports), and essentially in a state of flow*.

But because I hadn't been classically trained or really realized my enjoyment until 19 years old, I still didn't consider myself a dancer.  And honestly I still don't.  But that doesn't stop me.

I have a couple friends here who are passionate about two very different types of dance - one, has been dancing and teaching West Coast Swing for a couple years (how appropriate now that I move out here), and the other love country dancing, mostly partner but also a bit of line, that she learned with friends in Arizona.

West Coast Swing I've learned by going to a few classes at the undergraduate college here.  Maybe "learned" is the wrong word, but practiced at least.  It's been so much fun, and good for my avoidance-of-new-people-particularly-when-you-have-to-touch-them tendencies.  I remember the first time I largely watched for the first 15 minutes, during free dance before the lesson started.  I enjoy watching others dance just about as much as I love dancing myself, part of my vicarious nature.  Also I was nervous to go out there and afraid I would make a fool of myself, even though I know there are no expectations for beginners.  But the only types of dancing I had done were more individual in large groups, not working together; I felt like a swimmer going into a football play for the first time.

The timing is different, slow, then quick and quick, and both helps and hinders to keep the rhythm in your head.  I've always gotten the most enjoyment and felt I performed the best when I didn't think to hard about things, especially dancing.  Thankfully, I've gotten more comfortable as lessons go on, less timid, and more graceful...except for that one time I elbowed a partner in the face (not hard, thankfully, but I still felt horrible!).

Country dancing is a whole different game - line especially.  I grew up on country, so it's especially fun for me to be dancing in a crowd to country songs both old and new that I love.  There's a country bar here that has a huge dance floor, and my friends and I have gone there a couple times.  The first time I was unprepared and didn't dance much; but our last visit a couple weekends ago I got my dance on...and my whiskey on...maybe too much whiskey on...

So it was much easier to learn earlier on in the night, especially from a couple people who were willing to kind of describe the steps as they were gone through.  The more tipsy one gets, the bit harder it is to pick up on the dances, but as long as your on the outside and not running into anyone then it's okay to just have fun.  Partner dancing in fun too, but I have to say I prefer my lines...even if they are a bit crooked.

Double Dates are a Horrible Idea, Or, How I Found a Fun Place to Karaoke

A couple weekends ago, I joined my friend, Val, her boyfriend, Will, and his friends for a night at Dave & Buster's, which for those of you who have never been is an adult Chuckie Cheese with a wider variety of food.  Tons of games, lots of food, and the best part, a bar.  We all played a bunch of games and stayed until close, unable to use our tickets to get any prizes but securing our need to return another time.

One of the Will's friends, Tony, took an interest in me apparently and the next day I got a message from Val asking if I would like to double date with them.  It's been a while since I'd been on a date, and I hadn't really gotten to talk to Tony all that much the night before, so why not?

I met them all at Val's place at 7:30pm and from there Will drove us all to a sushi place.  Will is a bit of a rowdy character, so dinner was entertaining to say that least.  Most of the conversation was across all four of us, although I tried to ask Tony a couple questions about himself too.  He had come off as a bit quiet the night before, which I was more than fine with since I'm usually that away around people too.  We talked a bit more on the way over to the bowling after, but that was probably the last point it felt like a date.

We tried to bowl in teams, but the whole thing turned into a competition (which I won...I may suck at pool but I can hold my own in bowling - thanks, college!).  As we bowled, the guys continued to drink...and drink...and drink...and I'm actually still not sure how many pitchers they had, but I know Val and I had 2 cups each.  It was slowly turning into me-Val and Will-Tony hang out time, and though unimpressed, I was having a decent time.

After we ran out of bowling time, we went into the bar area and found karaoke set up by a guy that reminded me of a country version of one of my friend's back home. He not only let us sing as many songs as we wanted, but also had a great voice himself! He asked me to do a duet with him...which was fun until Tony kept trying to drunkenly sing into my microphone with me.

A drunk Tony continued to try to join in on every song...even ones sung by other individuls in the bar.  After spilling a beer and stumbling around a bit, Will helped lead him out and Val drove us back to her place, Tony still singing along and rocking out to every song.  Although the date was horrible, I had a wonderful time with my friends and a slightly awkward stranger.  Plus, found a reliable and cheap place to karaoke!

Don't Knock It Til You Try: Experiments in Hikes and Diets

Vegetarian, Vegan, Paleo, Juice, Michael Phelps* - there are a million diets, both ridiculous and healthy, and those that fit the later should be worth a shot, right?

While I can't imagine never having another cheeseburger or chicken-anything (sorry Vegs), or imagine living without cheese or eggs (sorry, Veegs), or want to pay a ton of money for a juicer, and did I mention the cheese thing? (cutting out my two favorite parts of the pyramid - dairy and grains - just plain wrong, Paleo. I was lucky enough to be born about 2000 years AD, and I'm sure as hell not gonna let all those pluses go to waste!).

The truth is while I do understand that health benefits behind these diets, I know enough about myself and behavior modification to know that no one can change overnight.  I've accepted that while I may never be able to completely give up a food group, it wouldn't hurt to downsize the less than nutrious ones a bit and fill in more better.

Sweets have never been a problem since adolescence.  Somewhere between my childhood and tender, bitter years of middle school I lost my craving for sweets, replaced with a viscious desire for anything salty, cheesy, Italian, or Mexican.  Do I enjoy the occasional pastry or ice cream scoop? Of course, but I never desire more than the serving size.  Whereas I've finished medium pizzas and too much of large pizzas by myself on more occasions than I'm proud of.

So my goals were simple: try to decrease the cheese and grains (without getting rid of them all together), sneak in more veggies and fruits, and try to stick to lean protein sources (red meat about once a week).  Few goals that were concrete but not restrictive, something I thought I could handle.

First it helps to shop in the right places - of which Southern California is chalked full.  Trader Joe's and the local sunday Farmer's Market are my new stables, and I've stopped into Sprouts a few times as well.  I've also heard of completely gluten-free or other such full organic stores which good luck finding in the South.

Second it helps to use the internet for recipes.  Did I know I could make a salad dressing I actually like and wasn't full of fat? No, but now I do! Did I know, granted with sauce, you cannot tell the difference between normal pasta and gluten-free pasta? Not a clue, but now I do! Did I know you can pretty much make a burger out of any vegetable known to man? You see where I'm going with this.

However I've learned a few other things too, like stay away from gluten-free tortillas and make your own veggies smoothies unless you plan to add vodka.

Lastly, if you're gonna eat poorly, try to find the better versions...or just accept the extra gym time.
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Back home, hiking was something you did through a lot of woods, a mostly soil-based terrain, places which from the suburban area where I grew up you had a bit of a drive to get to if you wanted something actually challenging.

Now I live on the border of mountians, in less humid air and drier ground.  The closest hiking loop is about five miles long, steeper on one end than the other, and mostly open to the sky except for the last quarter mile.

A couple different views from the top!

It's a pretty good view, but the trail does tend to get old a bit fast.  So a couple weekends ago I went with a friend to a different hiking area, a small canyon with a waterfalla bit farther east.  The "entrance" was a bit off the beaten path, past a couple no trespassing signs, but it was an easier way to get down to the canyon (which was open to the public).

The beginning was a gravel path that sloped down into the canyon.

Along the way there was more graffiti than I had ever seen in my life, as well as a few suspicious caves and finally the begining of the water.

Slowly the gravel ended and we began what would be many, many, many river crossings (also there's Dan!).

Gorgeous spot that I plan to picnic at someday this summer...right under that tree.

Some stepping stones we couldn't figure out if they were man-placed or naturally occuring.  Dan often crossed parts like these, while I with a camera often took the safer/wider river crossings.

A look behind.

Finally come across some flowers!  And yes, often I stopped for pictures and had to play catch up to a determined Dan.

This is apparently the public and "normal" entrance to the canyon...more or less straight down a mountan side with the help of a series of ropes.

Ain't nobody got time for that.

Almost to the waterfall! I was getting a bit antsy at this point. While the path was shorter than the other hiking trail, it was more challenging, so it took about the same time.

THE WATERFALL!  It's way in the center of the picture. The water was pristine and ice cold - I took off my shoes and stepped in to that inner pool up to my calves; my ankles hurt from the cold for the first five minutes.  The pool was maybe 4 or 5 foot deep, I'm not sure, but I plan to find out this summer.  Shortly after we arrived another group came in bathing suits and got in. To the right of the waterfall there is a rope that goes down to the water and you can use it (and a lot of determination) to get up to the next pool from which that small waterfall falls.  According to one of the guys in this other group, the pool up there is a bit deeper and had a natural water slide!  I cannot wait to return in the middle of the summer, on a day when that water will feel heaven-sent.

Graffiti Paradise.